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Saturday, January 21, 2017

Waking up in this
beautiful, wooden, four-poster bed, the down-filled mattress covered with silk
sheets; rising in a room filled with the opulent surroundings I have managed to
bring here – the Oak-backed sofa with its plush pillows, the redwood chess table
and matching chairs, artwork from the masters Serrefalin and Fraunken, and a
rug from the Isle of Justice (perhaps the most valuable of my belongings); it’s
all almost enough to make me ignore the stone walls and, just for a brief
moment, believe I have not consigned myself to living like a dwarf, hundreds of
feet below sea-level, in a series of caves and tunnels carved out of a
semi-inactive volcano.

I
throw my legs over the side of the bed, putting my feet into my silver-colored
slippers, lined with mink.

“Senil.”The light I had built into the ceiling comes on, illuminating most of
the large room I call my bedroom.I
rise, go over to my water table and pour from the decanter, filling the wash
basin with water, to a level beyond the decanter’s apparent ability to produce.I set the simple-looking decanter down, stick
my index finger into the basin water and speak the word “vesa”, removing my finger when the water reaches the correct
temperature.

After
my ablutions, I dress – blue, today.Robe over tunic and pants.Wearing my usual soft, black boots.I strap the deceptively small component bag to my waist, add my dagger,
and head into my ‘living area’.The room
is slightly larger than the bedroom, so quite large (for a cave).I check my message jar, opening the lid – but
it doesn’t speak.I set it back down,
return the lid, and walk up three steps to the dining area.

A
curtain separates the bedroom and living area, but only the elevation demarks
the dining room from the living area.My
breakfast usually consists of a single, poached egg and toast with jam, but
today I’m not all that hungry.I forgo
the egg.

Back
down to the living area, I collect the keys, and exit through the wide door
into the extra-wide hall outside my home – or what now houses my personal belongings.

The passage
is wide here because it has to be – some of the denizens of this palace are quite
large.I’m heading upward, so I have to
start out going west.Right, upon
exiting my rooms, to me, since I’m no dwarf, and can’t sense directions
underground!

What
a life for an elf!

At
the first crossway, one of the young dragons arrives at the same time I do.

“Hershael!You on duty this morning?I thought you had the evening shift?”

Hershael
growls deep in his throat.“Morning, Chastyra.
Gorganno caught me sneaking an extra portion of meat out of the stores,” he
confessed.“My punishment is a twenty-four-hour
shift.”

“Horrible,”
I commiserate. I know how dragons like their sleep – even though they actually
need little more than I!“Keep a strong
mind, Hershael.Steady on.”He grumbles again, then crosses through the
intersection.I cross through and head
to the three-way tee.

At the three-way, I look
up.From this point of view, I see a
five-by-five-meter hole in the ceiling.I could use a simple Detect
spell here, but I’m not one to waste even a smidgen of magic.One never knows when some foolish hero might
step into the palace.

“Vara-lon!”I rise off the cave’s floor, up and through
the hole.With a simple movement of my
slender fingers, I move horizontally about six meters, then lower myself to the
new level’s floor.And no, I didn’t just
‘waste magic’; I had to come to this level, and there’s no other access point.

I
turn and look at the floor.From this
angle, there does not seem to be a hole in the floor of the cave.An Illusion
spell hides the hole, making it look like the tunnel simply goes on.An unwary fool will fall through!I get low, checking the illusion
carefully.This volcano is called ‘semi-active’.It hasn’t erupted in generations, and most
believe it never will.But there is lava below, constantly working on the
stone under the upper portion of the mountain.Small shifts are not uncommon.

Today,
however, the spell requires no adjustment.Nodding my approval to no one, I move on – now toward palace entrance.

It’s
quite a walk to the northern face.I
usually spend the time mentally composing my next sonnet or poem.Today, I just clear my mind.It makes the time pass before I realize it
has, and I’m soon at the massively tall entrance.

The
height and width of the palace entrance is grand.It also makes one believe the Master of the
palace uses this entrance.Then, the
passage – though quite wide – can give them a sense of relief, that the Master
might not be as grand of size as hyperbole makes him out to be.

But
the truth is that the Master doesn’t use this entrance – he wouldn’t fit through the halls.

Here,
I check a secret of my own.At one
corner of the stone archway, I have set a spell which tells me when someone
enters the complex.My Master may have
senses powerful enough to know when this occurs, but mine need a little help.After all, my safety and security is directly
related to the Master’s survival.I want
to know when fools come a’calling.

The
spell is active, and no debris hinders its ‘line of sight’.

I
step away, and out onto the shelf (my person won’t set off the spell).I step to the edge of the landing to take in
the view.

For
as far as the eye can see, there is a vast, green valley.My elven eyes can make out the distant river,
called Dunnedin.A forest, so distant
that even my elven eyes can see only a darkening on the horizon, borders the
northern edge of the valley.It is
neither a thick nor wide forest, and can be rounded and avoided if the
tranquility of the woods somehow displeases you.Beyond that, I have seen, is a wasteland of
rock and rough vegetation, lasting only a few miles.Then comes the real barrier separating us from the rest of the world – but I won’t
get into that in this missive.

I take many deep,
cleansing breaths.Sorrowed to do so, I
turn away from the beauty before me and return to the underworld where my life
choices have guided me.

Instead
of turning back west (left), I keep going forward, down an only slightly
thinner tunnel.This passage turns and
twists a few times, but the distance to its end is not great.There, around a final stone bend, is a large
cave, about the size of the living area in my quarters.Besides a sort of stone beach before it, the
room is filled with a pool of water.Another dragon currently drinks from the pool’s edge.

“Clara,”
I acknowledge, letting her know I’m behind her, just in case she was (again)
lax at using her senses.

“Morning, Chastyra,” she
greets me, her head bobbing up in a manner that tells me I have startled
her.Gorganno has not been pleased with
this one’s inattentiveness.I will have
to report this incident to him.These
younger dragons must learn – the Master’s safety may be at stake!

I squeeze in next to the
large female, kneel, and take water into my cupped hand.I’ve learned to appreciate this warm water.It is rich in calcium and other minerals, and
tastes strong enough to convince my palate that it is but a weak tea!

After quaffing my thirst,
I say my farewell to Clara – who is taking far too long – and return to the
main tunnel.My next stop is two levels
down.It takes a while to traverse the
distance, but I reach the needed level and note I’m making good time.

I turn to the left, down
one of the side tunnels.Near the end of
this passage, some ninety meters long, the tallest dwarf I have ever met stood
just before the spot where the passage doglegged right.

“Phareus,” I greet him, “what
are you up to now, you rogue?”

Phareus guffaws and spits.“Somethin’ sprang my ‘one-armed bandit’
again.”Arriving, I take a look around
the corner.The arm of the insidious trap
is swinging loose, stretching out into the middle of the tunnel.The sharpened spike had been crushed.I instinctively check, and find the
corresponding chip in the wall this side of the L turn.

“What was it this time?”

Phareus grunts, shrugging
his thick shoulders.“I’m thinking it
were a bat.Prolly landed right on the
clip what holds the spike end to the wall.Ain’t exactly a hair trigger, but the fool thing might’ve tried to take
the clip to add to its nest.The clip
was bent.”

“Anything you can do
about that?”

Another shrug.“S’pose I can brighten it – paint it white.
Not like the clip gonna be seen by any guests, ‘n the bats don’t like brighter
objects for their nests.”

I’m not sure about this ‘nest’
thing, but I don’t know enough about bats to argue. Besides, Phareus is not
what one would consider stable, and it was best not to argue with him.His skill at trapmaking was unmatched, and,
despite his bulk, he was quite adept at sneaking up on the unsuspecting!

“You checkin’ magic
today?” the dwarf asks me.

“Yes.I’m checking the ceiling trap next.”

He nodded.“Good trap.Magic’s down,” he confirmed.“Only
thing surprising ‘bout that is that the magic isn’t down more often!”

It was unusual for him to
compliment my magical traps.But I
agreed with his assessment.It surprises
even me that the hiding magic holds more often than not.

I smile and salute, then
leave him working on the deadly arm swing trap.

Not only is the hiding
magic gone, but I also have to push those slimy tentacles back up into the
recess.I replace both spells on the
trap, ensure everything is otherwise correct and hidden, then continued on.

A stop at the bath house
to wash up, then I descended to the final level of the palace.I take the secret passage to my study, make
sure nothing had been bothered (I’m not worried just about Phareus, but also
those who worked part-time in the place.I know we are supposed to trust that those sent would be trustworthy, but…
well, I’ve never been the trusting type.

Seeing everything is
fine, I collected my scribe kit and head through the secret door into the
Master’s chamber.

“Good morning, my elven
friend.”The Master’s voice is deep, and
even at his best, menacing.

The great dragon harrumphs
dramatically.“Yes!You can be such a mother-hen, Chastyra!”

“It is part of my job, My
Lord.Your continued health is as
important to my survival as your own.”The Master is no spring-chicken.With the heavy armour he wears, I intend to see he stays in top physical
condition, lest he can’t ascend to escape any foes!

“I trust your rounds were
not too difficult, seeing you are right on time?”

That made me glad I’d
made good time early on, lest the revamping the magic on the ceiling trap would
have made me late.Darganau does not
abide lateness.“Yes, My Lord.All is well.”

From his position in his
cup – a stone structure resembling a thirty-meter-high wine glass, carved from
a massive stalagmite by a dwarven artisan, Lord Darganau maneuvers himself to
the edge of the lip and peers down at me.“What’s on tap today, Master Elf?”

His colloquialisms used
to confuse me.“You only have a meeting
with Lord Voran, an hour after dusk.”

“Hmm.He is an odd one.”

“And a dangerous one, My
Lord.”

“Yes.You’ve made our feelings known to me.But he is also the Lord of a powerful
principality.I would know what he has
in mind.”

“I would warn you caution
again, Lord.Especially if he asks your
aid against his King, Kambia.”

“That would be unwise of
him.It is more likely his King has sent
him to me.”

Since I would rather this
latter to be true, I say no more on the subject.“Shall we get back to your memoirs, Lord
Darganau?”

“Ah, yes.Yes, we shall.We did I leave off, Master Chastyra?”

I sit on the stone I
often used as a seat.I’d shaped it to
conform to the curve of my cheeks, to make it as comfortable as a stone chair
can be.I open my kit and unfold it into
the small desk it becomes.I take out
the parchment we were last working on, set out my pens, ink well and blotter
paper.“You had crossed the sea, spotted
the wizard’s signal, and landed in the tall spires at the most-northern edge of
the southern continent, My Lord.”

“Ah.Well then.”He contemplated a bit, while I readied the pen for writing.His booming voice began speaking in his
narrating voice once more.I could tell
he was reliving it all again – and knew I was getting an accurate,
word-for-word recalling of events.Darganau’s
memory is long.

I alighted on the landing. The
light, I discovered, had no source! It simply hung in the air before the
fissure leading into the mountain, totally unseeable from the reverse side, but
bright on the front side.

“Come on in!” Kalen’s voice called from within.

I felt relief wash over me. Kalen had stayed true to his
word. He had not absconded with my possessions. I entered through the fissure,
noting I’d not be able to grow much more, before I’d have to squeeze myself in!

“You
had me worried,” Kalen told me. “I had expected you three or four hours ago.”

Monday, December 5, 2016

I
must have been out of my mind!Why did I
trust that gutter-rat?But I’d needed a
guide.

The
inner-city was a maze, made from the rubble of Fallen Gotham – which was now
its name.There wasn’t a single building
in that area still intact.The iron and
stone from the destruction of those buildings that was moveable had been moved,
and moved again by the denizens of the inner-city.They had created paths.Passages that were wrought with dangers,
creating a maze of interlocking patterns and dead ends, walls too high to see
over, and too dangerous to climb. Some
of these denizens had set traps, lest anyone find their homes.

I
couldn’t tell you how big an area it was.I’d heard estimates from nine to twenty-five square miles.The say a hundred thousand still live in there.Hard to believe, as I’d not seen a soul all morning.

Save
Freddie, the gutter-rat I’d hired to lead me to the meeting I was expected to
attend at noon.And I hadn’t seen him
since nine a.m., according to my watch.I had just under an hour to make it to the meeting.

As
if that were my worry, now.

You
see, an Outsider can’t make it through the maze without a gutter-rat, the
low-lifes that are the only denizens of this god-forsaken patch of blasted
earth who’ll deal with Outsiders.They’ll work for beans.Literally.Outsider food and
clean water are the major – and expensive - commodities here.They’ll kill for a bag of good beans, let
alone real beef.Rat gets old.

Freddie
ditched me.I’d promised him half up
front and half after he saw me out.Either he’d been satisfied with the up-front payment, or he intended to
get even more out of me, by setting me up.

When
I turned down the same cleared path Freddie did – he was gone.I looked a bit farther – even tried calling
his name.Realizing he’d abandoned me, I
feared the worse, and went no farther forward.I couldn’t go back, either, because the ambush might’ve been set to take
place as I backtracked.So, I went
sideways – about west.

If
an ambush had been planned, I surely avoided it.But I also managed, of course, to get myself
lost. Now I’m just going along, trying
to pick my way through the maze, looking for a way out.It’s slow going, since I don’t know the
paths, and I have to look for traps practically every step, while looking out
for cutters – the most dangerous types in Fallen Gotham.Cutters would kill you before robbing you,
then drag your body off to the meat shops.

A
hundred thousand?Are they sure even
half a dozen humans still live in here?

I
was grabbed.He’d come out of nowhere
and now he had an arm around my neck.His partner was next, making a grab for my leg.

But
I wasn’t picked for this meeting, taking place in the middle of the most
dangerous place in what used to be North America, for nothing.

I
kicked out of the grasp of the partner, then kicked his face in.He fell back and to the ground.The first cutter was strangling me – it hurt
bad.I knelt, and flipped him over my
shoulder.Grabbing his free arm, I
twisted, hearing the crack just before the scream.The pressure on my neck disappeared.

Unfortunately,
it was replaced by the cold touch of steel against my temple.Cutter Number Three had a gun.

I
kicked a now crying cutter away and held up my hands.“I’m worth more alive than dead,” I said,
gambling for my life.I was able to turn
my head a bit, but could only see the gun.A damn derringer!

“Yeah?”
the third cutter’s voice sounded gritty.“I ain’t got time for no ransom.”

I
saw him start to pull the trigger.I
heard a thump and Cutter Number Three
dropped like a rock.

“Fancy
work there, Outtie!”My savior was a
filthy man of indeterminate age, with clotted, thin hair, buck teeth (and few
others), and carrying a lead pipe.“Excuse me,” he said, bowing his head a little.I watched as he walked over to my original
attacker and raised the pipe.The cutter
had his head turned, still crying.He
never saw the killing blow coming.

Savior
walked back over to me, looking embarrassed.“Sorry ‘bout that.Rule Number
One of living in Gotham:Don’t leave an
enemy at your rear.”He took out a rag
from his pocket (and at first look, you’d think that was an oxymoron, given the
condition of his pants, t-shirt and jacket, but the ‘rag’ had more holes than
material) and wiped the blood and gore from the pipe.He put the rag, now drenched in gore, back in
his pocket as he walked back to me.Then
he wiped his bloody hands on his dirty pants as he stopped right in front of
me.“Phil Greaseman!” he declared,
holding out a hand.

I
shook the cobwebs out of my head and took his hand (one doesn’t refuse a
handshake out here – even one covered in gore).I let him help me off the ground, then we shook hands.I noticed he was a lot stronger than his thin
frame made him appear.

“He
be asleep,” Greaseman said.“He ain’t
seen me.But you… if you’d like?”He held up the pipe.

I
shook my head.“With a little luck, I’ll
be back out of Gotham by nightfall.”

Greaseman
nodded his head.I saw dust – and maybe
some mites – fall out of his scraggly beard.

“Well,
I could show ‘ya out – for a fee, of course.”He smiled a lack-tooth grin.“Nothin’s free in Gotham!”

I
shook my head again.“You’ve already
earned a reward,” I told him, reaching under my shirt and pulling out my
wallet.“How much do food credits go for
now-a-days?”

He
nearly spat.“Naught but twenty bits on
the mark!Disgraceful, really.‘Course Vendors say they gotta pay men to go
into the City to get the food and ring it back – an’ that’s gotten more
dangerous.Bloke like me… I ain’t got no
say in it!”

“That
means it’s down fifty-percent from the last time I was here,” I told him. "So instead of the hundred marks worth I was
going to give you, I’ll make it one-fifty.”I counted out the vouchers and handed them over.

Greaseman
excitedly took them and stuffed them into another pocket.“Thankee, mister!”

“I’ll
offer double that, if you can take me to the Old Street Pub?”

His
smile turned into a frown.“I know of
Old Street,” he admitted.“Thas’ where a
lot of Traders meet – them that do business in the City for the merchants here.

“But
I don’ never go there.Never been.Best I could do is tell you the gen’ral
area.”

“I
see.”Greaseman’s confession impressed
me.A lot of his fellows would have
strung me along, then, after I was well lost, would have deserted me.Just like the gutter-rat Freddie had done to
me.

Greaseman
was an honest man.

“I’d
pay to be introduced to someone who could get me there?”

Now
Greaseman looked torn.I would swear he
was about to give me a name, but finally said, “Nah, mister.I don’ know anyone.”

“Mr.
Greaseman.Phil.I can take care of myself.I only need to be led there – if someone
tries anything funny, I can handle it.”

Greaseman
giggled.“Yeah.You were doin’ well back there.An’ you can jus’ call me Greaseman.All my friends do.Guns ain’t fair.Fortunately, there ain’t many ‘a them in
Gotham.”He got that torn look again,
and said, “I like you, mister!I don’
wanna be respons’le for you getting… hurt.”

“Call
me Paul, my friend.I wouldn’t blame you
if I got hurt – and you wouldn’t be to blame.But I’m a stubborn man, Greaseman, and I’ve been hired to meet with someone
in that pub.I always do my best to meet
my obligations, Greaseman, which means I’ve got to keep trying.It’d be better for me to have a guide through
the maze, wouldn’t it?”

Greaseman
looked ill at ease, but he was thinking.He finally nodded, a bit sadly.“Yeah, Phil.You’re right.I know someone knows the maze like the back
of her hand.”

“So,
introduce me,” I urged him.

Still
he looked undecided.“I like you, Paul.”

I
had to laugh.“I understand,
Greaseman.She’s a badass.But like I said… I can handle myself.”

“Okay.Okay, Paul.I can see this is important to you.”Still he just stood there.Since
he seemed to be trying to convince himself, I kept quiet and let him work it
out.“Okay.”He nodded his head once – with meaning.“This way, then.”He slid between to hunks of metal I’d not
even realized allowed passage.I quickly
followed.

We
were soon in another alleyway, which I was pretty sure headed almost directly
north.Even with the turns and twist –
even having to climb over a blockage of stone and metal – it kept relatively in
that direction – I think.

I’m
sure I saw movement once or twice, things bigger than rats.Reminders that Gotham was, indeed,
populated.And although most kept to
themselves, there were some very dangerous people in here, who knew how to stay
out of sight.

We
had traveled for nearly an hour.I was
about to ask Greaseman if we shouldn’t take a break, when he suddenly raised
his hand and stopped.I stopped too.

He
seemed to be listening for something – so I listened too.And I soon heard it. A song.Someone was singing, and the tune seemed
familiar to me.Greaseman put a finger
to his lips in the old be quiet signal,
then motioned for me to follow.He
slipped through another well-hidden pass through the rubble, to yet another
make-shift road, some five feet wide, like the others.As we went forward, the singing got a little
clearer, if not louder.

I
could make out the words now.

Ring-a-ring o'
roses,
A pocket full of posies,
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down.

I was confused.It
sounded like a little girl’s voice singing!Yet, certainly there were children in Gotham?Life does
go on.I just hadn’t thought about it
before this.Whoever the woman Greaseman
was taking me to obviously had a young daughter.

Greaseman stopped again.He turned to me, looking very serious.“She’s right through those two cars, there.”He pointed at two rather square lumps of
metal, separated by about a foot of open space, but seeming to lead to nothing
but piles of rubble – like everywhere else.

Cows in the
meadows
Eating buttercups
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all jump up.

The girl’s voice sang, followed by giggles; then the song
started over again.I gave a mental
shrug, and started toward the crushed cars.Greaseman grabbed my arm.It surprised
me, and I turned toward him, ready for anything.

“Don’t accept nothing from her, friend Paul.”

I was about to laugh again, but he looked too
serious.I merely nodded.

“Nothing,” he emphasized.“Nothing at all.”

I nodded again, and he let me go.I went to the small opening and pried myself
through it.

I
found myself in a tight area, surrounded by towering scraps of metal and
brick.I couldn’t help think but that I
might’ve been led into a trap – I went on high alert.But after several seconds of nothing, I
figured I was safe enough.I started
looking for a second way out of this circle…

…and
found it almost immediately.Near the
bottom of one wall, the metal was extra-thin, and swung out, like a gate!I had to get down on my knees to get through
it, but it was just tall enough.

Beyond
the gate was a sort of tunnel, about ten feet long.I had to crane my neck, but saw that I was
surrounded by more towering wreckage, but there was sky above.I crawled slowly and carefully through this tunnel,
coming out into bright sunlight.I stood
up, and looked on the scene in amazement.

Most
of the area was completely cleared of – everything!­No debris, no trash.Nothing.About ten feet ahead of me was another sort of wall – a tall hedge of
living bushes!Since this area seemed to
be center the clearing, I walked around it to be sure.There was a tree within the circular hedge,
thin and about fifteen feet or so tall.I could also smell something cooking – some sort of meat, which only
made me hungry.I could see the steady,
light swirl of smoke rising from the cooking, no doubt.

And
the singing was much clearer now.

Cows in the
meadows
Eating buttercups
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all jump up.

More giggling ensued.

Having made my way completely around the place, I walked
up to the hedge, where I’d seen what might have been – and proved to be – a short
gate.I saw nowhere to knock or otherwise
make myself known – without rudely shouting – so I opened the little gate,
ducked my head and entered.I had to
push through the brush, but there were obviously no bushes planted directly in
front of the gate – they’d just grown over it.

Once I was within the second circular clearing, I stood
in awe of what I saw.

Flowers – actual flowers!
– grew in a garden to my right.Green
grass grew all over, and I could see the tree to the back left.A couple of fluffy bushes grew in front of
the only real structure I could see – a (dare I say it?) plastic, pink
dollhouse!One of those large
play-houses from the days before the war.I believe this one was called the Princess Playhouse.There was a pit-style stove to the left of
the house, where a large pot stood atop a standing grill above the pit, in
which a fire burned.Smoke curled up
from the pot.

Ring-a-round
the rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down.

The little girl sang in front of the playhouse, holding a
doll.She flopped down to the ground as
she spoke the last line, and proceeded to laugh, hugging the doll.

She suddenly took note of me, and sang,

Hush! Hush!
Hush! Hush!
We've all tumbled down!

Then laughed hysterically, rolling around on the grass
with the doll held close.

I looked on, both bemused and confused.I hadn’t expected to find an oasis like this in
the middle of Fallen Gotham!

Suddenly, the small girl cleared her throat, seemed to
calm herself, and stood.She said to me,
“I’m sorry for my bad manners!How do
you do, sir?”

“Um… fine,” I stammered, thinking of what to say.“My name’s Paul…”

“I’m Suzy!” she said quickly.“This here’s Daisy-Anne.” She held out the
doll.It was dressed in a cheap-looking
striped outfit, and had bright red hair.

“Oh my!You have a
Raggedy-Anne doll!”

The little girl huffed angrily and pulled the doll to her
chest again.“She don’t like that name,
mister!And she’s got more than most
have these days!”

“Of course, of course,” I tried to placate her.“I can quite see she has class! – she… er…
merely reminded me of another… er, someone else.”

She seemed a bit more pleased, then started skipping in
circles.“What can we do for you, sir?”

“Oh!” I had to quickly put my thoughts in order.“Well, I was told there was a woman who lived
here, who might be able to guide me to… to a place in Gotham I need to get to?”

She
stopped skipping and looked at me.She
seemed confused.“Well, sir, I’m the only one lives here – me and
Daisy-Anne!”

I
was bewildered.Could that be
right?True, Greaseman hadn’t actually
said “woman”, but had he really been referring to this little girl?

“Where
is it you want to go, mister?”

How
did a little girl like her live all by herself in the middle of Fallen
Gotham?How did she survive among the
gutter-rats and cutters?How did she get
food – let alone the wherewithal to create such a splendid garden!I inwardly shuddered when I thought about how
much she’d bring on the slave market!

Was
she lying to me?Was her mother merely
away, hunting?

“Mister?”

“Hmm?”I quickly cleared my befuddled mind. “Yes,
sorry.Well, I need to get to a place
called The Old Street Pub.”

She
suddenly brightened, smiling wide.“I
know where that is!”She clapped her
hands and danced in place.“Do you know
what the old name of Old Street was?They called it Broadway!” She answered her own question before I could
even process it.She clapped and danced
again.“They used to have shows there – plays, where actual people got up on a
big stage and pretended to be other people!”She stopped clapping, and looked a bit sad.“I bet it was great.

“But
it’s not like that, anymore.There’s
only bars, dingy shops and whorehouses, and lots and lots of bad men and women.”She looked up at me, squinting one eye.“You a bad man, mister?”

“I
held up my hands.“Not me!I’m just a guy hired to bargain for some
businessman back in the city.”

Now
she smiled wryly.“I knew you were from
the City.I can tell those sorts of
things.”

I
waited, but she only watched me, with that enigmatic smile.“Well, um… it’s important I meet with a man
there.”

She
was nodding her head.“I can understand that.Black market.I need the items they supply just like everyone else in Gotham!”She started dancing around again, holding her
doll as though they were ballroom dancing.

I
tried not to get aggravated.“Er…
miss?Do you think you might tell me the
way to Old Street?”

She
stopped suddenly and stared at me, mouth agape.Then she laughed!

“Mister,”
she said, once she had calmed down again, “I’m sorry, but if I simply gave you ‘directions’,
you’d just end up getting lost – and then you’d probably end up dead!”

I
was taken aback by her bluntness, but after my sojourn so far, I couldn’t argue
with her logic.Small she may be, but
she had wisdom.

“Will
you take me there, then?”

“What’s
in it for me?”

She
was definitely from Gotham.“How about a
hundred food credits?”

She
rubbed her chin a while, mimicking an adult contemplating.“Make it two hundred.”

I smiled.“One-fifty.And that’s fair.”

She
thought about it some more, then nodded he head once.“Okay, mister Paul.You got a deal.Oh!Wait.”She ran off – to the fire
pot.She picked up a ladle and stirred
the contents.She shrugged and said, “Nowhere
near done.I can finish this later.She knelt and pushed a lid over the top of
the pit.Standing again, she picked up
another lid and put it over the pot.She
skipped back to me, stopping briefly at the door to her Princess Playhouse to
lay Daisey-Anne down, propped up against the plastic door.

“Okay,
mister Paul.We can go now!”

She
skipped toward the back of the Playhouse.I followed, thinking how could Greaseman consider this little cutie
dangerous?

In
the back, I saw the tree had a swing hanging from a low branch.There was also a small wood building in the
northeast corner.Judging from the flies
swarming outside it, I figured it was the little girl’s outhouse.

But Paul Wickers was beyond being able to respond.He looked over at the wood building, with the
flies swarming around it.He knew it
wasn’t an outhouse; no one would put an outhouse so close to the main
house.And wasn’t that an axe propped up
against one wall?Just like the doll!Paul
Wicker’s thoughts were getting confused.

Suzy – as she liked to call herself – knelt beside the
strange man and looked into his eyes.Paul wondered how the world had tipped sideways?But it was his last thought.

Seeing the light in his eyes go out, she stood
again.“It’s okay, mister Paul,” she
told the corpse.“Whoever sent you in
here obviously meant you never to go back.”She ran to the shed to get the slick tarp.She would roll the corpse onto tarp and pull
it over to the shed.She was a lot
stronger than she looked!There was a
hook and pulley system inside the shed she’d use to move the body around, then.

“Gosh
gee willickers!” she complained, hands on her tiny hips.“I’ll be cooking the whole blasted evening!”

It
was morning.Suzy had only been up about
an hour, and she really didn’t feel completely awake, yet.She was sitting outside, propped up against
her wonderful Princess Playhouse home, rocking her doll, Daisey-Anne.

But
she suddenly sniffed the air.Huffing in
exasperation, she told the doll, “Another
guest!”

I
found her as I searched the labyrinth of fallen Gotham.I’d been told she knew the maze like the back
of her hand – and I needed out!

Her little circle of land was clean, plants grew, and a Cinderella Playhouse
served as her home. To the left of the playhouse, a large pot sat over a hot
fire.